


Comfort

by Zerotaste



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, medical setting, mentions of vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerotaste/pseuds/Zerotaste
Summary: “How long ago was I last up?” Reaching for the spoon, his fingers play with the idea of grabbing it.“…a day? Or something.” December plops himself down on a chair at his bedside, laying his head across April’s lower legs. “Your knees aren’t comfy.”“No shit.” Well, if it was a day ago then maybe he’ll be okay now. He doesn’t know if December’s just in here to keep watch on him in case things do go downhill again but as much as he would never admit it, his presence is comforting.
Relationships: Mikage Hisoka/Utsuki Chikage
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> I considered using this in a pre-canon multichapter fic for them but I decided that even if I do write that, I'm unlikely to want to use this scene as I came up with something else in its place.

Registering the opening of a curtain, he manages to crack open his eyes. His head still swims and his body feels like lead but at least he’s conscious of what’s going on around him. The last time he can properly recall being lucid is the mistake that had led him to be laying here, hooked up to an IV and barely able to think.

“You’re awake this time…” Turning his head to face the voice he’s greeted by almost translucent white hair and mismatched eyes. He hadn’t messed up; April doesn’t know how he pulled off. Luck perhaps.

“Barel-” Pausing halfway through speaking he slams his lips shut. His throat feels like he’s swallowed a bundle of needles. Giving a short cough only exacerbates things. What the fuck was it that he drunk? “Barely.”

“They said to see if I can wake you up.” Examining December more closely, he notices a tray in his hands.

“What’s that?”

“August said it was food…” There’s an amused smile on December’s lips as he pushes the bed’s tray over April’s lap and sets down the bowl of ‘food’. “You should be able to keep stuff down by now or something.”

As he regards the bowl, his eyes narrow. Not so much because it’s _that_ terrible looking, because the bowl of strangely coloured mush definitely does not look edible but because memories of the last time he woke up start to trickle back to him. At least, what he thinks was the last time. An attempt to swallow some of a bottle of water that had to have been left there by December or August on bedside watch. Violent coughing. Blood flecked water and bile coming up. The doctor running in. A vial of an anti-nausea drug emptied into his IV line and then. Nothing. Even if this is edible, he’s not too sure he wants to try it just yet.

“How long ago was I last up?” Reaching for the spoon, his fingers play with the idea of grabbing it. 

“…a day? Or something.” December plops himself down on a chair at his bedside, laying his head across April’s lower legs. “Your knees aren’t comfy.”

“No shit.” Well, if it was a day ago then maybe he’ll be okay now. He doesn’t know if December’s just in here to keep watch on him in case things do go downhill again but as much as he would never admit it, his presence is comforting. 

Ignoring the squirming at the other end of the bed, he grips the spoon. Well, no matter how it tastes, if he can stomach this then hopefully he’ll be able to stomach regular cafeteria food next and not whatever this is that August cooked up. Slowly scooping up a spoonful, he brings it to his lips. His arms still feel devoid of all strength. Whatever he’d swallowed must have been just shy of killing him. He knows there must be an antidote to the things they do test them on, but this is all part of learning. You mess up in training? You’re in the medical ward for a week. You mess up in the field? You’re dead. 

Parting cracked lips he shoves the spoon the final part of the way in. Bland, completely flavourless and the consistency of baby food. Despite the softness, he grimaces as it goes down, his throat screaming as he swallows. There’s no physical urge to vomit again but he almost wants to just to get it out of there.

“August said no spices until your throat heals.”

“That’s not why I’m having trouble, asshole.” Despite the pain, he goes in for another spoonful. It’s got to be better than whatever nutrition he’s getting via IV and he needs to get back to training as soon as possible. He’s not letting this narcoleptic sweet tooth overtake him. The second hurts just as bad as the first. “How come you knew the right one?”

Every prior selection he'd been certain of himself in making, it had been easy up until that point. That one had thrown him for a loop, both drinks had smelt like they were laced with the same poison and there were no visual clues. When December had come back before him with a time as low as he had, April had been determined to beat him. The smug little smile on his face and the way his eyes sparkled might be what some would call cute, but it all it had done is solidify April’s need to win. However standing there, 30 seconds over December’s time already still comparing the two glasses, he knew he'd lost even before falling to the ground coughing up his lungs.

“There was a spray…” December’s hand moves on the blanket, finger drawing patterns on April’s so-called uncomfortable knees. “They used to use it at the market to keep the bugs away.”

“You remembered it that well?” He follows it with another spoonful, another grimace. It’s been two and a bit years now since they picked him up off the side of the road.

“Yeah, my nose remembers the smell of things well…” He supposes it might, he at least is able to smell if April’s added extra spice to a meal before even entering the room.

“So what did this food smell like?” Maybe December has at least a hint as to what he’s eating. Nothing would surprise him at this point.

“August’s cooking.” There’s a small laugh and April rolls his eyes. “And August smells like home.”

“So you’re saying this smells like home then?” He scoffs. The action also hurts, he really needs to stop talking, it’s not helping his throat at all. 

“Maybe…” December’s being cryptic on purpose. “And April smells like April.”

He doesn’t even understand what that means but he catches something fond on December’s face before he turns his head away and tucks his arms under his head like a pillow.

“April needs to hurry up and get better…” December’s words come out muttered and barely audible. He’s unsure if he’s even supposed to hear them at all. “The bunks are cold without you…”

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, they can be soft


End file.
